


Coffee on the Road

by Luthien



Series: Luthien Does Writer's Month 2019 [4]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Australia, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Australia, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 18:03:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20122582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthien/pseuds/Luthien
Summary: Jaime and Brienne take their trip to Byron Bay - eventually.Follows on from whereCoffee on the Rocksleft off.





	Coffee on the Road

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for Writer's Month 2019: Day 4 - Road Trip
> 
> I've recorded this story as a podfic, which you can find **[here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24268183/chapters/58688629)**.

The tall glass of ice cold water disappeared with unseemly haste almost as soon as Jaime set it down on the table in front of Brienne. In less than thirty seconds, she replaced the empty glass on the bamboo coaster.

"Thank you. I really needed that," she said a touch defensively to Jaime, who was watching her with an amused expression from the other side of the small table.

"It's important to keep well-hydrated in the summer. Particularly when you spend any length of time out in the sun," he said, as though quoting from some sort of community health website or pamphlet. That small, amused smile was still on his lips, though.

Brienne ignored him, and turned her attention to the most important thing on the table: a steaming mug with a picture on the side of a very smug-looking lion sporting a magnificent gold mane and surrounded by a pride of lionesses, emblazoned with the words: "Lions do it with a roar!" It was a souvenir of the Western Plains Zoo, apparently. A short white string that ended in a paper tag dangled over the side of the mug. Brienne took the tag between thumb and forefinger and proceeded to jiggle the teabag until she was satisfied that the resulting brew was strong enough for her liking. Then she removed the teabag, added a dash of milk from the plain, white milk jug that had arrived along with the mug, stirred the tea a few times, and reverently lifted the mug to her lips.

The first taste was _perfect_. Brienne closed her eyes and let out a long, satisfied sigh. "That's _wonderful_," she said, leaning back against her chair.

When Jaime didn't reply after a few seconds, she opened her eyes again to find him staring at her. He wasn't smiling in amusement any longer. He was just… staring. At her.

"It really is good tea," she said, wanting to assure him of her gratitude. "In fact, right now, it's better than-"

"Sex?" Jaime suggested, just as Brienne said, "Chocolate."

Brienne blushed. She couldn't help it. Her stupid pale skin always betrayed the slightest touch of embarrassment, even with all of her freckles. At least this time her skin must be already so pink that any extra flush wouldn't be noticed.

She grinned, or tried to. She could feel the strain in it, but she managed to say lightly enough, "Believe me, that's the highest praise I can give you. If it's better than chocolate then it's definitely better than sex."

"Really?" Jaime said, his expression back to what she was already coming to think of as normal for him, with the mischievous light in his eyes and the too-pleased little twist of a smile on his lips. "I'd say that British men don't know what they're doing, if you think that chocolate is always better than sex."

Brienne raised her eyebrows. "Oh, really?" she said. "How do you know that I even _like_ men? Maybe I'm into women."

"Oh, I _don't_ know," he said, and the grin widened. "Just call it a hunch." And then he smiled at her, properly smiled a fully heart-stopping smile. At her.

Brienne was not the sort of girl that men flirted with. She didn't have any real defence against the onslaught of a smile like that. She looked down at her tea, flustered, and realised with a shock that he'd so distracted her that she still hadn't taken more than one sip of it. She could do something about that, at least.

She took another sip of tea and dared to look at him over the rim of her mug. He responded with a look that sort of swept from her eyes down to her chin—or possibly a bit further south—and back. Not sure what to say, Brienne looked down at the table for inspiration, and her eyes fell on Jaime's own mug. Like hers, it was a battered old thing decorated in some sort of abstract design in black and white, with 'Viva Nicaragua Coffee' printed across it in faded red letters. A white string, the match of the one on Brienne's own tea bag, dangled over the side.

Brienne frowned in puzzlement. "Why are you drinking tea?" she asked.

Jaime's brows rose a little, and he bit down on what was almost certainly a small laugh. "Why? Because I like tea."

"But you own… well, at least, you work at, a coffee shop. One that doesn't serve tea. Shouldn't you, I don't know, at least express an interest in your product?" Brienne would never work him out—which was just as well, since she would likely never see or hear from him again once he dropped her off in Byron Bay this afternoon. She ignored the tiny, inexplicable pang that followed that thought, and resolutely took another sip of tea. It still tasted good, more than good, but it didn't match the perfection of that very first sip somehow.

"Oh, I don't-" Jaime began, but it turned out that Brienne was doomed never to find out just how that sentence might have ended.

"Jaime!" a female voice called from the private area beyond the counter.

"Coming!" Jaime said, jumping to his feet immediately, while Brienne was still wondering over the interrupted sentence. How might it have ended? _I don't… what? Mind coffee? Usually drink tea? Own this place?_ "I'll be back in a moment," he said, but even as he took a first step towards the counter, a woman appeared in the doorway from 'out the back'.

She was short and slender with dark hair and eyes. Pretty much the exact opposite of Brienne, in fact. She looked like the sort of person who might have ancestry from one or more of any number of countries in the general vicinity of the Mediterranean, and when she spoke again her lightly-accented voice made clear that her first language was something other than English.

"Drinking the product with the customers now, hmm?" she said severely. At least, her tone would have been severe if her words had not been accompanied by a definite twinkle in her eye.

"No," Jaime protested, sounding somehow like a little boy caught with the pantry door open in the middle of the night. "We're both drinking tea."

The woman made her way over to the table, and shook her head when she saw their mugs. "Couldn't you have at least used the _nice_ mugs?" she said. "You know, the ones we imported at no little effort and expense so that they would match the ambience we're trying for here."

Jaime shrugged. "They were the only mugs out by the kettle."

"Yes, and there's a reason for that," the woman scolded. "They were exiled there. By-" She paused, her face suddenly pale. She pressed her hand to her belly.

"Sit down," Jaime said, grabbing a chair from another table and then helping the woman into it. "How are you feeling?" he asked in concern, all of his attention focused on her.

Brienne's gaze was caught by the sparkle of a ring on the other woman's finger, where her hand gripped the edge of the table. It was a diamond engagement ring, and there was a plain band beside it. Brienne felt ever so slightly sick to the stomach. She slid down in her chair a bit, and tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, even though it was almost certainly pointless, partly because she was a great, tall, clumsy and no-doubt at this point lobster-coloured woman, and partly because it didn't matter, anyway. Jaime and the other woman were both acting as if they were the only two people in the room, and possibly the world.

Brienne realised then that she didn't like Jaime Lannister very much. She didn't like him very much at all. Flirting with _any_ woman clearly came to him as naturally as breathing, even a woman like Brienne, while all the time he had a wife who could have—and had—walked in at any moment. Of course he was married. She should have considered that. She should have _expected_ it. Men like Jaime Lannister did not just wander around unattached, or not for long, and when a woman did catch their eye, it was always, inevitably some small, pretty woman who knew how the game was played.

Not like Brienne.

"Shae, this is Brienne," Jaime said, touching his fingers lightly against the back of Brienne's hand to get her attention. She started, and immediately pulled her hand back. "She was stranded here a little while ago thanks to circumstances beyond her control," he said. "I'm giving her a lift up to Byron this afternoon after Tyrion gets back."

"It's nice to meet you, Brienne," Shae said with a warm, unsuspecting smile.

Did she really not know just what her husband was, Brienne wondered.

"Brienne, this is Shae, my sister-in-law," Jaime continued.

Brienne's stomach clenched, and then relaxed. She didn't know whether she felt sick or not. It must be a delayed reaction to the heat. "Your s-sister-in-law?" she asked, not very lucidly.

"Well, she's been married to my brother for a year now, so I'm pretty sure that makes her my sister-in-law, yes," Jaime said, the slightest hint of a smile lurking at the corner of his mouth.

Brienne tried to pull herself together. She was being appallingly rude. She smiled at the other woman. "It's very nice to meet you, Shae," she said. "I apologise for taking over your coffee shop and demanding tea when it's not on the menu."

Shae waved away her apologies. "Think nothing of it. I _told_ Tyrion—my husband—that we should have beverages other than coffee on the menu. But of course he _must_ be a purist about these things. In a big city you can get away with that—if you're good enough—but in a place like this?" Shae shook her head in apparent disgust. "Maybe if we offered tea we would have more than one unintentional customer here right now." She tilted her head to one side, seeming to consider what she'd just said. "Perhaps I will put together a separate tea menu, and present it to Tyrion as a surprise."

Jaime threw back his head and laughed. "I'd pay good money to see the look on his face if you do."

He had a nice laugh, Brienne thought. But then, Jaime Lannister had a nice everything.

"I will make sure to take pictures," Shae said with a wink.

Brienne watched them, and smiled her carefully practised polite smile. Now that the rage that had propelled her down the highway and into the coffee shop had subsided somewhat, she was reverting back to her usual reserved—some might say shy—self. Gathering her courage, she re-entered the conversation. "Why is this place called Coffee on the Rocks?" she asked. "I thought maybe it might be because you specialised in iced coffee or something, but it sounds like your menu focuses more on the… er, more serious styles of coffee."

"If that's a polite way of saying that my brother is a coffee snob, then yes, you're exactly right," Jaime said, with a fond grin as Brienne tried to protest that she wasn't trying to call anyone any sort of snob. "The cafe is called Coffee on the Rocks because the town is called Casterly Rock. I thought you knew that?"

"Well, I do now that you've reminded me," Brienne said, bristling slightly. "I knew the town was here because we detoured through here looking for a rest stop on our way south this morning, but I didn't really pay much attention to what it was called. And after I started walking, I couldn't look it up on the map because my phone is dead."

"You've really had a hell of a morning," Jaime said, and Brienne was surprised to see real sympathy—or at least very realistically faked sympathy—in his eyes.

"The tea makes up for a lot," Brienne replied. And that was only the truth, but Jaime Lannister himself was making up for a lot, too. Not that he was ever going to know that. She lifted the mug to her lips again and polished off what tea remained before turning to Shae. "Shae, I wonder if I might impose on you just a little more. I slipped on the road as I was walking here and I seem to have torn my dress. Do you possibly have a private room where I could quickly change into something else?"

"Oh, of course, my dear," Shae said, her eyes darkening with concern. "There's an office out the back with a private bathroom attached." She turned to Jaime. "Take Brienne's luggage through for her, so that she can get changed in peace," she commanded.

Jaime gave her a speaking look, and then saluted her and got to his feet. "Follow me, Brienne," he said, picking up her case.

"Thank you so very much, Shae," Brienne said. "I really appreciate it."

Shae shook her head. "It's nothing," she said.

"It's really not nothing," Brienne said quietly.

"We women have to stick together," Shae said.

"I suppose we do," Brienne said. It was almost novel to be considered part of the sisterhood by someone. She'd always felt like an outsider with almost everyone, including members of her own gender. And now here she was in a country where she actually _was_ an outsider, and she'd been treated to more kindness in one morning than… well, she didn't really like to think how long it had been.

Jaime let out a theatrical sigh.

"Oh, sorry!" said Brienne, jumping to her feet. "Please lead the way."

Jaime led, and Brienne followed.

The room turned out to be a bit more than just an office. By one wall was a desk with a laptop computer on it, almost buried under piles of paper, but the room also contained a small kitchenette—obviously where Jaime had made the tea—and there was a day bed pushed up under the window. A second door led into what must be the bathroom.

Jaime set her case down on the daybed. "You know where Shae and I are if you need anything," he said, and left her to it.

Brienne wasted no time in unzipping her case, but when she flipped back the top, she wished that maybe she hadn't been quite so eager to do so. "Oh, _no_!" she cried as she stared down at the contents. She could not _believe_ this.

The case was untidily packed with pairs of jeans, shirts, underwear—some of it less than clean—toiletries, a phone charger and various other bits and pieces, not one of which belonged to Brienne, and not a single stitch of clothing that fitted her. She'd somehow taken Hyle's case out of the back of the car! Their cases were almost identical, exactly the same dimensions and both a nondescript dark grey, but Brienne _always_ put hers on the left and Hyle's on the right in the boot when they packed up to continue their journey.

She hadn't packed the boot this morning, though, she remembered. She'd stubbed her toe quite badly on the bed base just as she was about to carry her things out to the car. There had been blood, and quite a bit of it. Hyle had grumbled about her carelessness, so Brienne had limped off to the chemist to buy antiseptic cream and plasters, and had left Hyle the task of packing up the car.

Brienne hadn't even stopped to think about which case was hers when she'd got out of the car by the side of the road. She'd just _assumed_. There was a lesson in there somewhere, but right now she was too annoyed to want to think about it.

There was a knock on the door, then, and Jaime's voice asked, "Is everything all right in there?"

Brienne huffed a sigh. "No," she said. "Not exactly."

~*~

"What about this?" Jaime asked, holding up a huge, sheet-like garment in lurid shades of purple, orange and yellow.

Brienne frowned. "I really don't think so." She continued to flip through the rack of clothes in front of her.

Once she had explained her latest small calamity to Jaime, he had very carefully _not_ smiled. Instead, he had suggested that they go around the corner to search for something for her to wear in what he called the opportunity shop, but which looked exactly like a charity shop to Brienne. She supposed that she shouldn't be surprised that Casterly Rock boasted such a shop; she was mostly just surprised that the retail centre of the town consisted of more than the main street.

She pulled out a pair of linen trousers and held them up. They were a sort of soft caramel colour, which wouldn't look absolutely awful on her, and the legs were extra long. Paired with the men's button down shirt in plain white that she'd already decided on, she would look all right, or at least all right enough that the receptionist wouldn't be likely to order her out as a vagrant when she eventually checked into a hotel in Byron Bay.

"Do you mind if I try these on?" Brienne asked the middle-aged woman who was sitting on a stool behind the counter.

"Knock yourself out, dear," the woman replied with a shrug, and pointed at a tiny cubicle in the corner with something that strongly resembled a plastic shower curtain on a rail across the front of it.

Feeling self-conscious, though the only other people in the shop were the saleswoman and Jaime, Brienne slipped off her dress and changed into the trousers and shirt as fast as she could. They fitted… well enough. They would have to do, in any case, since none of Shae's clothes would fit Brienne, even if she'd allowed Shae to offer them to her, and Jaime's jeans, while long enough for even Brienne's legs, were not wide enough in the hips—as he'd made a point of telling her before suggesting they try the 'op shop'.

Slipping out of the changing cubicle with her ruined dress over one arm, Brienne went over to the counter to pay.

Once they were out on the street again, Jaime looked her up and down. "Not bad," he said. "You can find some real treasures in op shops, or so I'm told."

"I don't think there's been any treasure in that one recently," Brienne said.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Jaime said, grinning at her, or perhaps at some obscure joke of his own.

Shaking her head at him, Brienne lengthened her stride, and Jaime matched it, so in almost no time they were back at Coffee on the Rocks.

There were still no other customers when they entered the coffee shop, but Shae was behind the counter, doing something with a couple of coffees in takeaway cups, and a very short man was following her around from espresso machine to counter, begging her to please sit down.

"I'm almost done," Shae said, swatting the man's hand away when he tried to pick up the bottle of milk, probably in an attempt to return it to the refrigerator.

"Tyrion!" Jaime said. "You're back early."

"And just as well, by the looks of things. I thought the whole idea of your being here was so that you could take care of things while Shae _rested_," said Jaime's brother.

"She was resting until a little while ago," Jaime said. "And anyway, it's been very quiet. Or at least it was until Brienne here turned up."

"Ah yes, Brienne." Tyrion Lannister turned to her and looked her up and down. His gaze was penetrating and Brienne squirmed, fairly sure that he saw more than she was comfortable with anyone seeing. "How do you do?" he said. "I'm Tyrion, husband of the beauteous Shae and brother of this layabout over here," he said, nodding at Jaime. He held out his hand, and Brienne bent to shake it.

"It's good to meet you, Tyrion," Brienne said, and thought that what she said might even have some truth in it beyond the usual platitude. Tyrion's limbs were shorter than they should be, and the shape of his head betrayed his dwarfism, but the resemblance between Jaime and Tyrion was still obvious. Their hair was very similar, and there was something about the look in Tyrion's eyes, even though he had one black eye and one green, that reminded Brienne quite forcefully of Jaime.

"It's good to meet you, too, Brienne," Tyrion said. "I've heard quite a bit about you in the short time since I got back."

"And it's a shame that you won't have time to continue the acquaintance," Jaime said, before Brienne could get in another word. "If you're back then I'm going to hit the road. Brienne needs to get back to Byron, and so do I."

"Of course you will, and you're going to take these with you," Shae said, coming over with a coffee in each hand. She looked Brienne up and down, much as her husband just had, before handing over one of the coffees to Brienne. "Not bad," she said with a nod. "It will serve until you can get some more fitting clothes."

Brienne smiled politely, not sure if Shae had meant the pun or not.

Shae turned to Jaime and gave him the other coffee. Jaime took off the lid and looked down at it. He groaned. "Don't you ever get tired of this, Shae?" he asked.

"Never!" said Shae with a laugh, and then, "Take a look at yours and tell me what you think," she urged Brienne. "I think I made the right choice, but you must tell me!"

Frowning, Brienne removed the lid from her coffee, and gasped in surprise. On top of the coffee was one of the most exquisite pieces of coffee art that she'd ever seen. It was of a sun, all intricate squiggly lines radiating out from the central circle. It looked like something out of a piece of medieval heraldry. "It's wonderful!" Brienne exclaimed.

"Oh, I am pleased!" Shae said. "I hoped… but there was always the possibility that you would not appreciate the reference to your adventures in the sun this morning. But… it suits you, the sun. Shining and bright."

"Oh, I don't know about-"

"I'm sorry, Brienne, you don't have any choice," Tyrion said with a grin that was startling in its resemblance to his brother's. "If Shae says it's so, then I'm afraid it's so!"

"Thank you," Brienne said to Shae. "And not just for the coffee."

Shae took her hand. "Any time," she said. "Have a safe journey."

Yes, the sisterhood had to stick together. "Good bye," Brienne said. "It really was nice to meet you." She turned to Tyrion. "And you, Tyrion, however briefly."

"Goodbye, Brienne," Tyrion said. "Make sure that my brother keeps his eyes on the road."

Brienne wasn't really sure what else Jaime would be likely to be looking at as he drove, so, "I will," was all she said.

Then Jaime was making his goodbyes, and picking up Brienne's—well, Hyle's—case, even though she protested that she was quite capable of carrying it herself, and before she knew it they were out the door.

"I'm parked around the corner," Jaime said, leading the way in the opposite direction from where the op shop and the other little shops lay.

They turned the corner and Brienne stopped so suddenly that Jaime went a couple more steps before he realised that she was no longer beside him. Brienne stood and stared. There was only one car parked on the street before them. It was low to the ground with the sleek lines of a sportscar, the paintwork a shining cherry red. It looked dangerous, and expensive. Brienne revised that estimate to very, _very_ expensive, when she got close enough to the boot to read the words 'Aston Martin' on the back of it.

"Is this your car?" she asked faintly.

"Yes," said Jaime, as if it meant nothing, as if it _was_ nothing out of the ordinary.

The only person Brienne knew who drove an Aston Martin, and then only using 'knew' in the very broadest of senses, was James Bond.

"All right," she said, a little crossly. "You haven't quite said it, but it's obvious that the coffee shop belongs to your brother and his wife, and you were just helping out for the day. So you're not a barista."

"I never said I was," Jaime pointed out, smirking at her again, damn him.

"What are you? A spy or something?" Brienne asked.

Jaime burst out laughing. "I wouldn't be a very successful spy if I drove around in a car that catches people's attention this easily," he said.

"True," Brienne conceded grudgingly. "But what are you? _Who_ are you?"

Jaime shrugged. "I'm just a businessman. I work in an office, just like half the people you pass in the street."

Brienne sincerely doubted that. "Do you _own_ the office you work in?" she asked.

"No," he said. "Not exactly," he added, as Brienne was allowing herself to relax just the tiniest bit. "The family company owns the office."

"The family company," Brienne repeated in failing accents. "All right, then," she said, pulling herself up to her full height, pulling herself together before she fell over in astonishment. "You're rich. Possibly even, I don't know, more than ordinarily rich if you're driving a car like this."

"Does it matter?" Jaime asked.

"Why are you driving me to Byron Bay?" Brienne asked, feeling utterly bewildered. It didn't make any sense. Why would a gorgeous, nice, funny, ridiculously rich and apparently unattached man like Jaime want to spend any time with someone like her, let alone time spent stuck inside a car together—however luxurious—and forced to make smalltalk until they reached their destination?

"Because you need a lift. Why else?" He wasn't smiling any more. He looked sombre, almost sad. It made his face look all wrong.

Brienne let out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I really am grateful, and I really do need someone to drive me to Byron Bay—or anywhere with reasonable transport links."

"Then you'd better get in," Jaime said. He still wasn't smiling, not quite, but something about his features had lifted, somehow. "I'll put your—_the_—case in the boot."

He unlocked the car with a quiet beep, and did just that. Brienne opened the passenger door somewhat hesitantly. The seats inside were upholstered in black leather, naturally, but leather so soft and buttery that Brienne felt almost as if she were a hand inside an exceptionally luxurious glove as she settled into the passenger seat.

She set her coffee cup in the cupholder between the two seats and put on her seatbelt just as Jaime got into the driver's seat and placed his cup by hers.

"What was the art that Shae did on your coffee?" Brienne asked. "You didn't seem all that pleased with it."

"The same one she does every time," Jaime said, and actually rolled his eyes. "A lion."

"What's so funny about a lion?" Brienne asked, remembering the lion theme on the mug she'd drunk her tea from.

"It's on the Lannister coat of arms," Jaime said. "Yes, don't laugh, we actually do have a coat of arms. Ridiculous, but true."

"I wasn't going to laugh," Brienne said demurely, but this time her lips were the ones that were curving up at the edges.

Jaime turned the key in the ignition, and the engine purred into life. It sounded like a sleepy lion's roar, something that could easily turn dangerous if given the proper incentive.

"All right," Jaime said with a tight little grin as he donned a pair of sunglasses. "Byron Bay, here we come!"

He pulled out into the street, coasting along until the street met the highway. Then he slammed down the accelerator, the engine roared as if in delight, and off they went.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't the end. More to come with the next prompt: sound.
> 
> Read the next instalment [A Coffee and a Kiss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20134861)


End file.
